


Welcoming Distractions

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen wakes up early in the morning, thanks to his perky dog. To his displeasure, he finds that the other side of his bed is empty, and his husband is nowhere to be found. That won't work at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcoming Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction, and I make no profits from posting this.

Even if a thick sliver of rich, golden sunlight has successfully snuck its way through the small slip in between the heavy, dark curtains to dance across the expanse of Jensen’s face, the man is secure in the fact that he is far too comfortable to make any attempt of getting out of bed. The pillow cushioning his head is too inviting to abandon, and Jensen has the distinct impression that if he gets out from beneath the heavy blanket, he will get chilly.

It’s practically _imperative_ that he stays in the bed, really.

Unfortunately, Kujo doesn’t agree with Jensen’s assessment. At all.

The mattress dips suddenly from added weight, and the man has all of two seconds for his eyes to shoot wide open before a warm, solid and heavy weight crawls eagerly on top of him. Turning his head in alarm, he manages to open his mouth and choke out “What the-”, before a long, slobbery tongue laps up the side of his jaw, all the way to his hair line. Thick drool stubbornly clings to his skin, and the man’s attractive features crinkle into a half-hearted scowl.

Accusing moss green eyes swirl to stare into a pair of brown eyes, and the four legged culprit of the slobbering assault barks proudly.

“I always knew you’re secretly full of evil,” Jensen gripes. He sits up slowly, and wipes at his face. Kujo plants her large paws on the human’s blanket covered lap, her tail wagging excitedly, and barks again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jensen sighs, before stretching his arms high above his head and yawning. “I hear you the first time.” Kujo lets out a sniffling sound, and her big brown eyes stay trained on the man. It’s only as he lets his arms fall back to his side that Jensen notices he and the Saint Bernard are the only occupants of the bed. He glances quickly to the side of the bed where his husband usually likes to sleep on, only to see the blankets on that end neatly folded over the bed. Jensen raises his eyes to look at the digital clock on the bedside table to see that it is only seven in the morning.

He sighs. Any time before eight in the morning should be considered a sin, in his book. His attention is pulled away when a wet nose brushes against his knee, and Jen rolls his eyes. Giving into the blatant pleading in Kujo’s eyes, he runs a hand over her large, furry head affectionately.

“Let’s go find your other daddy, yeah?” Jensen coos, and Kujo barks in agreement. When the large dog bounds off the bed, races to the door of the bedroom only to stop and look back at him as if to say _“Are you coming?”_ Jensen cannot help but burst into laughter. Of all the animals Misha could have gotten him, it had to be one with a distinct personality.

Shivering a little as the warmth of the blanket fades, Jensen slips from the bed and quickly follows Kujo as she dips out of the room, into the hallway. Her claws click on the hardwood floor, and Jensen lazily runs his fingers through his bedhead as he saunters after her.

He idly thinks to raise the indoor temperature of the house, and belatedly realizes that walking around in a thin white tee and a pair of gray boxers doesn’t do much to keep him warm. Oh well- it is too late to go back to the bedroom to find warmer clothes.

He really wants to know where Misha is, anyway.

The answer comes easily when Kujo takes a turn at the end of the hall, moving into the extra room Jensen and Misha set aside for Misha’s home office. Closing in on the room, Jensen can hear the faint sound of fast typing, and a smile tugs insistently at the corners of his mouth. Only Misha could be up at the crack hours of dawn, hard at work.

Jensen moves to the room’s threshold, and silently leans against the doorframe. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches with some bemusement as Kujo trots over to Misha’s desk, the wagging of her tail slowing down. Misha is so distracted that he does not notice her. The man himself is hunched over in his computer chair, one shoulder bunched up by his ear as he balances a cell phone, and his hands outstretched over his large, mahogany desk.

He’s wearing his heavy, black spectacles to help ease the strain of his eyes as he fast types something onto his computer, and brilliant blue eyes are narrowed to catch any typing errors.

With the way his dark hair sits messily on his head and the black shirt and one size too large gray sweatpants are what he wore to bed last night, Dean knows Misha hasn’t spared anytime to do anything else since slipping out of the bed. Kujo sits at Misha’s feet, and gives a knowing look to Jensen. He knows that look; it’s the _“We need to save Misha”_ look, and Jensen winks at the Saint Bernard.

He’s so onboard with the plan.

“Yes,” Misha is saying, pulling one hand away from the keyboard to pick up a black pen and scribble a hasty note into an open planner. “But that meeting has been postponed until next week- the deadline isn’t even for another two _months_.”

His other hand hovers over the keyboard, and Jensen can plainly see a flinch of discomfort pass over his husband’s features with the way he has to keep his neck twisted at an angle to keep the cellphone pressed to his ear. Jensen frowns and moves into the room. Misha sighs and crosses out the note he just wrote with harsh strokes, before dropping the pen.

With his now free hand, he scrubs his face, before grabbing the cellphone and freeing his shoulder. His face twists to the side, and Jensen cannot keep the goofy grin off of his face as he sees Misha’s eyes light up as his presence is finally noticed.

 _Hi,_ Misha mouths to Jensen with a small smile, before his lips tighten and he is speaking back into the phone.

“I understand, but that does not make any sense, so what are you-?” Whatever the person on the other line is saying frustrates Misha, and he lowers his face into his hand and braces his elbow on the top of his desk. A heavy sigh slips from him, and Jensen presses up close behind his chair. Reaching out, Jensen places both hands on his husband’s shoulders and begins to massage them. Caught off guard, Misha lets out a loud groan.

This close to the phone, Jensen can just make out a voice sounding incredulous.

“W-what? No, not you!” Misha says hurriedly into the phone. “It’s nothing. Continue, please.” He turns a mock glare at Jensen when he lifts his face to peer up at him, and Jensen chuckles unashamed. He gives a look of utter fake innocence, and Misha rolls his eyes at him. Jensen doesn’t miss the way Misha’s eyes soften at the corners, and his body relaxes ever so slightly.

When Misha lowers his head and reaches out to grab his pen again, Kujo moves closer to the side of the chair and rests her large head on Misha’s lap. Peering up at him, she lets out a low whine. Jensen is hit with sudden inspiration, and there is nothing in the world strong enough to keep him from resisting the temptation of putting it into action.

His hands still heavy on Misha’s shoulders, he bends down and nuzzles the tip of his nose against the shell of Misha’s ear. Misha’s breath hitches in his chest, and Jensen does not give him a chance for reprieve, before he is pressing his lips firmly against his husband’s temple.

“Can’t you put the phone away long enough for breakfast?” Jensen whispers in his ear, and enjoys the visible shudder that works its way through Misha. The man turns his blue eyes to Jensen’s, and he swallows audibly. He points at the phone and mouths _important_.

Jensen grins.

“Suit yourself,” he says, his voice low and husky.

When Misha opens his mouth to resume speaking, Jensen moves fast as lightning. He peppers soft kisses to Misha’s brow, to the crown of his wayward hair, to the bridge of his nose, and to the rise of his cheekbones.

“I-I...” Misha stutters into the phone, and when he gives Jensen a pleading look to let him alone, Jensen pointedly ignores him by spinning the computer chair around. He braces his hands on both of the chair’s armrests, effectively caging Misha in, and the look in Jensen’s eyes sends a delicious shiver up Misha’s spine. He knows that look alone means he either has to hang up soon, or risk embarrassing himself to the employee on the other line.

Jensen moves in close, his lips hovering only mere centimeters from Misha’s, and he whispers “What’s it going to be?”

“I’m going to call you back, Mary,” Misha says quickly, and Jensen realizes it is his assistant he’d been talking to. The voice on the other side pipes up something, and then Jensen watches as the cellphone is flipped close and tossed onto the desk.

A scowl deepens Misha’s brow, and Jensen just smiles smugly at him.

“That was an important call, Jen,” Misha implores, but Jensen figures he isn’t too mad with the way a pair of blue eyes zeros in on his lips and hover there. He licks them slowly, and watches Misha’s eyes darken.

“Well, I’ll just have to figure out how to make it up to you, won’t I?” Jensen says cheekily. Misha’s mouth opens as he prepares to reply, but Jensen swoops in to close that little bit of space. His lips press firmly against the other man’s, and he moves his hands from the chair’s arms to brace them on the sides of Misha’s face. He grips him tightly to keep him from being able to move as he kisses him deeply, sweeping his tongue across the surface of hot, warm lips and soaking up the painfully familiar taste.

Misha’s breaths come out in shaky rasps, and one of Jensen’s hands lower slowly down his body.

Fingers brush hard against the front of Misha’s thin black shirt, scraping against a perky, cloth covered nipple. When he pinches the sensitive little bud between his thumb and forefinger, Misha twitches and whimpers into his mouth. Jensen sucks up the sound of desperation with another deep kiss, wanting it all for himself.

He finally pulls away to smile at a dazed looking Misha.

“Do you think you can forgive me for distracting you from you work?” He breathes softly, touching his forehead to Misha's.

“I think so…” Misha replies, his voice sounding slightly hoarse. He clears it, and Jensen laughs softly. Seconds later, his chuckle dies down and he dives back in to press another kiss to those inviting lips. He absolutely _loves_ the way the man melts against him, and he tangles his fingers in Misha’s thick, soft hair, keeping him close.

Next to them with her tail wagging fiercely, Kujo gives a happy bark.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a very old "12 Days of Christmas" Jensen/Misha prompt called "Day Five: Domestic". The theme was "Jensen, Misha and their big, fluffy dog!"
> 
> I hope all who reads this enjoys.


End file.
